Keeping Mohinder Warm
by bluecellphone
Summary: Written for my friend Kael who is sick with a cold : She prompted me for a Mylar fic. There's a blizzard and Sylar's goal is to get Mohinder to take his wet clothes off...of course he succeeds!


Get well Kael! She's sick so I asked her to prompt me for a mylar fic. Hopefully this will make you feel better!

Read while drinking tea or soup!!!

**Prompt:** Blizzard

**Pairing:** Mohinder/Zane!Sylar

**Paragraphs: **less than 150 words in total

**Total words:** less than 1000 words (or exactly 1500; no more, no less)

**Rating:** higher than pg

**Goal for Sylar:** trying to get Mohinder out of his wet clothes

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"How bad is it out there?" Sylar asked his disheveled partner coming through the door. He smiled as the doctor shook his head, causing hundreds of snowflakes to fall from his curls and puddle onto the floor.

"Pretty messy Zane. It's a good thing you didn't try to go home today." Mohinder frowned at his pants, soaking wet up to just above his knees. "I've never seen New York get this much snow!"

"Yes well either way I appreciate you letting me stay here, Mohinder." They shared a smile.

"I wouldn't let you travel in this weather! I'd never see you again if I did."

"That would be a bad thing?" Sylar asked, tugging on his lover's hips and pulling him closer.

"Very bad indeed, Zane." Mohinder smiled into the taller man's lips as their faces met softly. His frozen limbs warmed suddenly at the sensation. He was completely content in having found this man through his research; something he had been close to giving up on.

"I'll just be sad to see you go," the doctor stated, pulling away to peel off his coat. The sincerity of the statement stabbed Sylar through his heart. At some point he would have to tell his lover who he really was, but he knew it would mean the end of their lustful relationship.

"Well, I don't _have _to go, Mohinder," Sylar offered, following the other man to the stove. The doctor spun to meet Sylar's towering gaze, kettle in hand.

"You want to stay here?"

Sylar fidgeted with his shirt sleeves, nervously pulling them over his balled fists. He wasn't trying to act shy like his character Zane was supposed to; he was sincerely nervous about his lover's reaction.

"If you want me here…yes." A moment of silence was enough to stop both hearts.

"I'd like that, Zane." Mohinder's warm smile filled the room. It was white hot, sending Sylar's heart into a flutter.

_Why am I so weak over this man?_ He argued with his emotions. Somewhere deep inside the monster he had become was screaming at him to kill the doctor and take the list. But the heavenly view before him of such an innocent, fragile, beautiful man pushed the rage inside him down and muffled its roar. He wanted nothing more than to hug and kiss and protect the doctor from the world.

"When the snow stops, I'll just make a trip home to get some things."

"Good because I don't think you'll fit into my clothes," Mohinder chuckled sizing the tall man up. Sylar's hands trailed aimlessly over the doctor's front, teasing the buttons on his plaid shirt.

"Let me try it on!" he squealed, undoing the first few buttons with lightning-quick speed. Mohinder didn't realize there was a tiny bit of telekinesis behind the nimble unbuttoning.

"Stop that! You'll rip it, I tell you!" He swatted Sylar away giggling, trying to take a step backwards, but was stopped by two strong index fingers hooking around his belt.

"These are wet, you should take them off." Sylar's gaze turned almost predatory as his tone evened, sending a chill through Mohinder. He'd seen the other man get this way every night. It was as though Zane(Sylar) had a split personality; the other side showing when he became overwhelmed with lust.

"You're just trying to get me naked."

"Not true! You'll catch a cold if you stay in damp clothing."

"I don't think so, look how quickly they're dry – " Mohinder's protest was cut off by a plunging mouth, his words swallowed in passionate, deep breathing. Sylar pulled away and allowed the doctor to lean into him, forehead resting in the nape of his neck.

"Let me warm you up."

"I'm quite cozy already, Zane." Mohinder shivered against the other body, not from the cold, but from the residual feeling of Sylar's lips. This is how it went every night; Mohinder initially protested, but eventually ended up giving in to Sylar. Subconsciously it lessened his own guilt for wanting another man so passionately.

He didn't pull away at the gentle tug of fingers undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. He merely stood still, leaning against a rising and falling chest, eyes closed tight to take in the moment.

Sylar's hand slid into Mohinder's kaki pants and he moaned softly at its careful touch. Above him, the murderer smiled as the realization struck him; _I own this man. I __am everything he needs__. I'll keep him safe forever._

Reacting to the touch, Mohinder raised his head to kiss at Sylar's neck gently, encouraging the fingers to move freely. Instead, Sylar's hand retreated to cup the Indian's cheek softly.

"I'm so glad I've found you," he breathed into the doctor's ear. Mohinder responded with a half-whispered 'yes' before leaning into another kiss. Later he scolded himself for not thinking of something more romantic, but he was gone; lost in the passion. His brain had shut down and his body had taken over. At that point, he relied fully on the guidance and experience of his companion.

During the lip lock, Sylar continued to work on their clothing. Again, Mohinder didn't take notice of what could only be described as an extra pair of hands aiding in the unbuttoning and tugging of shirts and pants. Blue jeans were clumsily kicked from long, pale legs, attempting to support himself and the doctor simultaneously. As big of a task as it was, he thrived off of Mohinder's need to hold him as they kissed feverishly. Weakening the Indian was his favorite part.

Mohinder winced as he backed up into his desk, rattling the computer on top. Attempting to steady the other man, Sylar gave him an apologetic look while curling his fingers around the doctor's skinny hips. The pair was often far too clumsy in their disrobing rituals. Sylar knew that would easily be different if only he could act like his normal, suave self. Until that day, he'd have to fumble.

Still holding fast onto the caramel hips, he steered Mohinder towards the bedroom, eyes fixed on each other. He could hear Mohinder's heart pick up tempo, which in return urged his own body into excitement.

_Oh, the things I could do to this man. He has no idea. If only I could show __him __all of my abilities…_

The doctor landed with a thud onto the bed, pushed back by eager hands, and was immediately pinned by straddling thighs. His neck was then attacked by a wet tongue, trailing stubble-tickled circles up to Mohinder's ear. He whimpered at nibbling teeth and hot breath invading his hearing, nudging his head softly into the other man's cheek. Sylar growled playfully into his ear at the feeling of Mohinder's hardening member underneath him. He gloated internally over how easy it was to excite the doctor.

With a moan escaping dark, wet lips, a strong hand wrapped around Mohinder's erection. The Indian arched his back in a fit of sensation as the bony fingers stroked up and down.

"Z…Zane!" he panted. Hearing another man's name escape the cultured doctor was almost enough to halt Sylar's actions.

_One day you'll moan _**my**_ name. I'll make sure you do. _

The tongue that had teased his ear just moments before was now assaulting his mouth, choking him into gasps. The man on top was getting rougher.

With a hungry purr vibrating into the Indians mouth, Sylar turned him over suddenly onto his stomach. A pained grunt was all that escaped Mohinder's mouth as the lust-driven murderer forced himself in. His caramel fingers grasped tightly at headboard at the initial shock, but loosened gradually as the pain faded to pleasure.

Now in a steady rocking motion, Sylar's fingers went after the doctor's member again, stroking on beat with the rocking of his hips. The Indian buried his face into the pillow below, tears of pleasure forcing themselves out to dampen the white fabric. A muffled cry of, "Oh God, Zane!" pulsated through the pillow as quickened thrusting pushed them both over the edge.

Sylar fixated his stare on the man below him. He was beautiful; brown skin shimmering in sweat, body arching in the prettiest way.

He shuddered into Mohinder's back, panting a hot, open mouth on the Indian's neck. How had they released in complete unison? Were they really that perfect for each other? Sylar's thoughts raced, taking in the scent of the trembling doctor below him.

They collapsed onto the bed in a satisfied sigh, arms and legs lying haphazardly across each other. He rolled to mirror the doctor, whose face displayed a combination of pleasure and fatigue.

"I think I'm warm now," Mohinder breathed with a smile. He moved in closer to his mate, nuzzling his neck with a damp forehead.

"Let's keep you that way," Sylar retorted, pulling the sheet around them both and holding him tightly.

And he would. He would keep Mohinder warm and safe forever, whether the doctor wanted him to or not.


End file.
